


Through a Mirror

by SoleilVioleta



Series: In Which Merrill Exists [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 22:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4764149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoleilVioleta/pseuds/SoleilVioleta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age: Inquisition: Now with 100% more Merrill.</p><p>After helping set up the road to recovery for the Kirkwall Alienage, Merrill spent some time travelling from place to place. She has ended up becoming the Court Enchanter, entertaining the Empress Celene. While wrapped up in Orlesian politics, the Inquisitor Lavellan decides that Merrill has skills the Inquisition needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You have been lauded as the Herald of Andraste, Chosen by the Maker Himself. Sometimes you enjoy the title (it’s quite useful). Sometimes you hate it. Tonight is one of the nights when you hate it. You’re tired, you’re anxious, you really don’t have time for these bullshit shem politics.

The Winter Palace is beautiful. The chill is real- all the gilt glitters, the marble floors shine, and ever mask indicates the odd reality of Orlais. A shrewd and collective loneliness very different from the unruly warmth of the Dalish, wherever they happen to be.

The highly fashionable crowds around you more than carelessly eschew their elven servants. No where is particularly amiable to elves (both city and Dalish elves alike), but this is different. Even unskilled in the Great Game you can tell that something has caused an overflow of malice towards elves at the Palace.

–

When you find out that one of the ambassadors is elven you really think you’ve figured it out- ah, but when is it ever that easy? Briala is championing the city elves and you respect that- probably. She seems as put together as anyone else here though, and that bothers you.

“Ah, Inquisitor. It s a pleasure to meet you. I wasn’t sure what you would be like, but it appears that you may be a useful ally after all.”

You exchange quick words- no one can afford to be away from the Game for very long, and she leaves you with some parting advice, “If you can’t find enough information on Gaspard you may be able to convince the Arcane Advisor to lend you a hand.”

“The Arcane Adviser to the Empress? Why would she listen to me?”

“Besides the fact that you’re the Inquisitor?” Briala smirks, “What else are these knife ears of ours good for if it’s not listening?”

Things start to make a little sense.

–

You thought that climbing the trellis would have caused more waves, but really it just made people laugh. “Oh, how quaint!” You hear one of them chuckle. Inquisitor: Herald of Andraste and Court Entertainer Extraordinaire. You’re exasperated, but you’ve got work to do.

The Arcane Adviser’s room is interesting to look at. Plenty of herbs growing, just like back at Skyhold. Brightly coloured baubles glowing slightly in the dim light. Elven runes scattered around a large mirror. And yet, intricately carved chairs, an elaborate bookshelf, papers with artfully hand-torn edges. It’s obvious which things the Arcane Adviser brought with her but not a thing had dust settled on it- everything was in use, in the true Dalish fashion. Not a city elf, then.

You find a few notes dressed to and from Lady M next to Lady C.

You climb back down the trellis just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation, “She probably practices blood magic. Don’t all rabbits? It’s probably why her room is so hidden away behind the library.”

–

When she steps down the stairs, she’s not what you’d expected. You thought she’d be old, like a Keeper. Mysterious, dark, maybe dressed in some elaborate frills. Ready to manipulate the Game.

But she’s young, and her dress is simple. Her vallasalin has elements of “trust”, “hope”, and “courage”.

“Andaran Atish’an, Lavellan.” You conduct your conversation in Dalish. You’re glad that the spies likely can’t understand, but you’re also delighted to be speaking elvish again. The language is beautiful and flows so gently over your tongue, words rolling into one another. Gladly, you trade favor for favor.

–

When the events of the ball are over, Merrill asks if she can accompany you back to Skyhold. She admits that she knows blood magic when you ask about her skill set, but you sense that there’s more this the picture. She smiles when you say yes, “Ma Serranas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work (and it's AU) operates under the HC that the Dalish have given the Valasalin a deeper meaning- the patterns and tattoos not only indicate patron god/ddess but also indicate the best qualities about a clan member. Of course, the work also operates under the HC that Solas has not given up the goat on the Valasalin just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

At Skyhold you walk the gardens with Merrill, she tenderly clips the herbs and puts them into your hands, “It was a terrible tragedy, but Hawke is okay and I did eventually fix the Eluvian. I brought it with me, and I think you’ll like to see it.”

“You sound proud! You’re right though, I’d love to see it. My Keeper told me about the Eluvians. She didn’t dwell on it though, said they were lost.”

“Most of them are. The ones that aren’t can be quite dangerous. The cost can be high.” her eyes look far away, and she clasps her hands. She mutters to herself and you can barely make it out, “Ir abellas.”

You frown, but before you can say anything, she looks back to you, “Anyway, there’s someone I met, through the Eluvian. I’ve been teaching her things here and there and she’s been working with me on a project. Her son is really nice. A bit creepy, but what can I really say about that? You’ve got to meet them whenever you have the time. Our project can help the inquisition. I think.”

–

When Merrill joins your War Table she’s still gentle but she’s not shy, “I’ve learned a lot and I know what you need to know. You don’t see Solas offering up the information I have, do you?”

Leliana tries to interrupt, saying something about Kirkwall, but Merill is strong, “Your agents can tell you whatever they like, and even if it’s true the bottom line is that you weren’t there, were you? I’m trying to help!”

You can see her hands, balled into fists at her side, shaking. You think she’s done with people turning away her help and her knowledge. You think you’re glad she’s on your side.

–

When the news of your Clan and the city elves return- you’re devastated. Dead. All dead. How could this have happened?

There are no words of condolences to be had. Everyone leaves you alone- you walk the grounds but people move out of your way. Your past is gone, and without a past, there is no future. For a moment you wonder if this is how Cole feels- so apart from everything.

The first person to knock on the door of your quarters is Merrill. She’s already crying, but your eyes are still dry.

“Your people.” she hesitates, her voice breaking over every syllable, “Our people.” She presses a ring into your hand. You can see that it is carved from halla bone, one of the infinity knots commonly used as a tribute to the endurance of the People.

Finally, tears start to stain your face.

She stays with you, telling you stories of her old clan, and the elves she was helping at the alienage in Kirkwall, and the ones that were lost in Orlais, until another knocking comes.


	3. Chapter 3

The title of the Arbor Wilds fits it well; it’s untouched, untamed, unwelcoming. And yet, you feel at home.

You’re startled when you begin to glimpse elves between the branches, and when they finally strike out against the Red Templars, and against you, you’re taken aback. Their skin is smoother than any you’ve ever seen, their eyes bright but ghastly, and their teeth- such sharp teeth. Their movements are impeccable, water flowing over the ground; you see for a moment what a society that had created your lyrical language might have looked like in motion.

Still, they’re all pale and ashy, a fine layer of dust on elven history. The greens of the Wilds look much better on you and Merrill- kissed by the sun, all scars and freckles.

–

Inside the Temple of Mythal, Merrill advises you to complete the ancient rituals, “This is a sacred place to us. Why would we defile it as the Templars do?”

You’re inclined to agree with her and she perches from a higher place to help direct your path on the magic imbued stones. the rest of your companions are antsy and frustrated- they don’t understand. They can’t.

You’re both anxious, but excited. You thought you were searching for an Eluvian. But Vir’abelasan? The Well of Sorrows? It could be everything and more.

–

“MY people?” The sentinel leader, incredulous, scoffs at you, “You’re shadows roaming the woods! Hollow people wearing Vallasalin, grasping at strings you can’t possibly reach! You are not MY people!

“You can’t just thrust all of this blame onto us for being what we are now!YOUR people APPARENTLY warred among themselves until everything was ruined!” Merrill retorts, almost shouting, almost in tears.

“She’s right! You can’t just try to shove the responsibility from what you did thousands of years ago onto the current generation. It’s not fair. Own up to what you did.” Your voice is level, but you’re furious. Is this what’s left of the dreams of your people? Haughty Sentinels too good to hunt their own Halla alongside you?

But you remember being a petulant child the first time your Clan had moved. Things were new. Everything was different and foreign. You had hated it, until you learned to enjoy impermanence, to pick out the things that never truly change, and to embrace the unknown. Perhaps Abelas is a petulant child with no Keeper to soothe his heart.

“We have tried our best to respect this sacred place, and to respect you as well. Let us have peace. Corypheus will destroy it on a whim, and kills all elves regardless of age. We want to help.” Its not a question that you’re asking, it’s a command. The Sentinel leader backs down.

–

The Well of Sorrows reflects oddly onto the stone and foliage around it. Its not tranquil, it’s not alive. It’s enchanting, but it’s more than any eye could possibly detect.

“We know what the price is,” Merrill says quietly, “And we don’t really know if Mythal is alive or not, but we know what she could do if she was. Her servant forever?” You don’t reply to her at first, “Well, Abelas said she was dead, and even Gods don’t normally come back from that, do they?”

“I’ve seen stranger things today.” you wipe the blood from the end of your staff- you don’t want it to drip into the Well.

“If you think one of us should drink from it- I’m willing. I’ do anything for our people. But it’s also a bit scary isn’t it?” She always chitters- a nervous habit she’s told you that she’s tried to outgrow. You don’t mind, but it does make it hard to think.

“It’s a lot to take in, but I need to decide quickly.” Your companions have all thrown their two cents in- but it didn’t make this any easier. Urgency prickles the back of your neck.

“You don’t have to decide by yourself, Ma’Lin’Falon.” Her words carry wisdom and pain, but are balanced with camaraderie and support.

You know what must be done.

**Author's Note:**

> I have tried my best to leave the Inquisitor gender-neutral (this is one of the reasons the pov is 2nd person).
> 
> In connected works, the Inquisitor is explicitly referred to as a woman, but his can (and should) be disregarded if your HC Inquisitor is male, nb, etc.


End file.
